Opinion | The Indus Waters Treaty and the Ripple After Pahalgam

In the aftermath of the tragic attack on tourists in Pahalgam’s Baisaran Valley this April, where lives were lost and the sense of calm in Kashmir was once again shaken, the Indian government has signaled a dramatic shift in its long-held diplomatic approach. Among the ripples of security upgrades and public mourning, one surprising policy front has returned to the spotlight: the Indus Waters Treaty.

Signed in 1960, the Indus Waters Treaty has long been hailed as one of the world’s most successful water-sharing agreements between two nuclear-armed neighbors. Brokered by the World Bank, it gave Pakistan control over the three western rivers—Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab—while India retained rights over the eastern ones—Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej. Despite wars and numerous military stand-offs, the treaty held firm, standing as a symbol of reluctant cooperation.

But this time, emotions run deeper. The Baisaran attack, which many in the valley and across the country have attributed to cross-border terror elements, has forced the Indian government to reassess what it gives and what it gets. A high-level security and diplomatic meeting held in New Delhi days after the incident concluded with a strong message: “Everything is on the table now—including the waters.”

While the government has not outright abrogated the treaty, officials have confirmed that plans are underway to expedite the construction of long-delayed hydroelectric projects along the Chenab and Jhelum rivers. These include the Ratle and Pakal Dul projects in Jammu and Kashmir, which had faced delays due to international objections and environmental clearances. Engineers and officials have been instructed to accelerate approvals, even as India maintains that all works are within the treaty’s legal limits.

In Pulwama and Anantnag, locals have welcomed the move with cautious optimism. “We’ve suffered enough,” says Shabir Lone, a schoolteacher in Mattan. “If our waters can strengthen our region’s economy or security, they should not go unused.” Many believe that increasing India’s use of the western rivers—not by violating the treaty, but by fully utilizing the rights it already holds—could be both a strategic and symbolic counter to persistent cross-border tensions.

Analysts, however, warn of a delicate balance. While India has every legal right to harness water within the treaty’s framework, any aggressive messaging around it could be seen as provocation. Pakistan has already responded with concern, stating that “tampering with the treaty would be seen as a hostile act.” The World Bank, the treaty’s original guarantor, has remained mostly silent but is closely monitoring developments.

Still, for many in Kashmir, this debate is more than geopolitics. It’s about survival. In villages across South Kashmir, where climate change has already altered river flows, local farmers say they need water not for politics, but for their fields. “We lost tourists in Pahalgam, and with them, our income,” says Haseena Begum, who used to run a homestay near the attack site. “If water projects bring jobs or stability, let them begin now.”

As India mourns the loss of innocent lives in the Pahalgam tragedy, the government’s stance on the Indus Waters Treaty may become a quiet but powerful expression of resolve. Not through the breaking of agreements, but by reasserting control over what is legally and rightfully its own. In the Valley, where rivers have always been lifelines and sometimes frontlines, the water now carries not just memories of pain, but also the weight of policy and power.

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Aiyan Gulzar Paul